Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
After a fitful night’s rest, I wake in the bed my fiancé and I share. Well, we should be sharing it, but last night, Landon stayed at his latest tryst’s house, texting me he was too tired to drive home.
I’m well aware our relationship is anything but conventional. It used to be one of the things that attracted me to Landon—how free he was, how open he was to all kinds of experiences, sexual and otherwise. So when he asked if we could transition into an open relationship a year ago, of course I said yes. I didn’t want to stifle this man who was so full of love, so full of life—especially when he promised me nothing between us would change. We would still be Carlotta and Landon, happily-about-to-be-married couple, but we could eat our cake, too. Literally.
I’m not going to lie, it was fun—for a while. But lately, things have been different. Landon comes home later and later, if at all, and he doesn’t seem particularly interested in having any “fun time” with his fiancée. Either too tired from who he was with, or not interested in general, it’s been two months since Landon and I have slept together.
I’m not going to think about how coincidental the timing is. About how around the same time we stopped, I met the masked man.
Zay.
Like a dark angel, he came into my life when I was wanting the most. When I needed someone to protect me from myself, from the dark thoughts always swirling in my head.
Only, those thoughts have grown into a storm of their own. Not a day passes where I don’t think about the man in the red mask—where I don’t daydream about all the horrible things he could do to me. My stomach heats as I reach and cup my neck, gingerly fingering the large bandage that’s covering the X he left on my skin last night. A mark. His mark.
I jerk in bed, brought out of the thoughts by the front door clicking open. A scowl works its way onto my face as I throw my legs over the bed, preparing to face Landon after another night away from me. From us.
“Hey,” he greets, sweeping his shiny blond hair off his forehead and giving me a million-dollar smile. “I brought you coffee.”
Looking at the paper cup in his hand, my expression lifts. I trot over to him, grabbing the cup with a smile that mirrors the brightness of his own.
This. This is why I stay. Because even if things aren’t perfect—even if they’re not good, he still shows me he cares. Just this little gesture ? —
“Ugh!” My face sours as the taste of hazelnut coats my tongue. I try to school my features, but it’s too late.
“You don’t like it?” He frowns, looking at the tab on his own coffee to make sure he handed me the right one. “Did they leave out the hazelnut?”
“Oh no, they didn’t leave it out,” I say, trying to force a smile. My lips are quivering from the vile taste still swirling around my mouth, so I don’t think I’m very successful at looking grateful.
“What’s wrong then?” he asks.
“It’s… nothing,” I assure him, not wanting to seem ungrateful or to appear hurt that he forgot how much I hate hazelnut. After all, it’s just a stupid coffee—so what if he forgot? I should focus on the fact that he was thoughtful enough to bring me one. “Thank you for this.”
“Of course, Lottie,” he says, his smile back on his face as he steps over to me. He presses his lips to my cheek briefly before pulling back, his bright blue eyes gleaming as he gazes at me.
“Did you see the outfit I laid out for you, Lottie?”
A scowl tries to work its way onto my face, but I fight it. I had forgotten about our debauched plans at the Neon Flamingo tonight, too shaken from my encounter with Zay last night to mentally prepare for it.
“No, sorry. I’m sure it’s just as good as the others, though.” A tight smile. Another peck. I try not to think about the fact he hasn’t commented on my bandage, and I fail. Did he just not notice? How could he not notice?
Landon beams as he heads toward the fridge, pulling out ingredients to make his morning smoothie. “You’re going to look sexy as hell. Caleb is super excited—he’s been texting me all morning about it.”
“Caleb?” I ask. Usually, he doesn’t let me know the names of the men I’ll be fucking—says the mystery is half the reason it’s so hot. “You never mention their names beforehand.”
“Yeah, but Caleb’s different,” he says, waving me off as he adds a scoop of vanilla protein powder to the blender. “I’m thinking he might be a… more permanent man in your rotation.”
I raise my brows. “Really? And when did I agree to this?”
My question is cut off halfway by the whirring of the blender, and I scowl, waiting as patiently as I can for it to finish.
“I’m sorry. What did you say, Lottie?” he asks, blue eyes wide and innocent as he pours a cup of the noxious green mixture.
“Nothing,” I murmur, turning and heading to the bathroom to get ready for the night. There's a cold numbness in my chest, but I choose not to think about it. After all, this is what I agreed to. This is what I welcomed with open arms. So why am I so unhappy about it?
“It was nothing at all.”
Pain radiates from the balls of my feet as I teeter into the Neon Flamingo, holding onto Landon for support as I try to gain my bearings in my six-inch death heels. One stumble, one wrong move, and my skirt the length of dental floss will ride up, exposing everything to the room.
We maneuver through the throng of sweaty, moving bodies toward the back of the room, and I nearly groan when I see there are no seats available around the table Landon rented. However, that problem is solved when Landon sets me in front of a man with chestnut colored hair, who promptly drags me into his lap.
The wind leaves my lungs with the force he pulls me down, causing the rest of the hungry-eyed men around the table to laugh amicably. I turn my head to look at my captor, my eyes drawn toward a nose too large for his face before settling on eyes the color of dying grass.
So this must be Caleb.
He’s not a terribly attractive man—but he’s not ugly either, and he seems to be sporting quite a nice body beneath his thin gray tee shirt. And the thing growing between his legs is an indication we’re going to have a lovely time.
“You’re Carlotta?” he asks, hazel eyes twinkling with mirth. “Landon’s told me all about you.”
“Only the most debauched things, I hope?” I ask, fluttering my lashes sweetly.
He tosses his head back in a throaty laugh, and my core flutters at the sound. He’s got a fantastic voice, I’ll give him that.
“So Carlotta…” he muses, reaching forward and tucking a strand of ruby red hair behind my ear. “Want to head to the back with me?”
Unwittingly, my eyes trail toward the crowd, my heart hammering as I catch a glance of Landon, his lips pressed hungrily against a beautiful modelesque girl with platinum hair. Just his type… I guess he’ll be busy doing his own thing tonight—as usual.
A bitterness settles in the pit of my stomach as I force my eyes away, regretting my decision as my gaze catches on a red mask bobbing in the crowd. I blink, and it’s gone—the familiar red mask replaced by a girl with unicorn glitter on her eyes. I shake my head, trying and failing to ignore the uneasiness swirling in the back of my mind.
“Let’s go,” I murmur, grabbing Caleb's hand and hauling him toward the blood red door at the back of the club. The security guard gives me a slight nod before letting us inside, and I waste no time leading him into a room at the far back of the hallway. The only furniture occupying the space is a bed and a small nightstand, but that’s all we will need for what we’re doing.
“You’re sexy as fuck, you know that?” he husks, his lids lowering as I push him backward onto the crimson bedspread. “So fucking hot.”
“So are you.” My lips tip in a sardonic smile as I climb onto the bed, straddling his thighs as I deftly remove his belt. His pants and boxers are next, and when I finally grip his thick cock in my palm, it’s accompanied with a throaty groan that has tingles running the length of my spine.
This. This power I have over them is what I live for.
“Good boy,” I murmur, stroking his length agonizingly slow. Caleb hisses when my hand meets the base of his pelvis, hazel eyes filled with a desperate plea.
“Oh, God,” he groans, throwing his head back. “Oh, God, I’ve gotta take a leak like a motherfucker.”
I sit back with a scowl, taking my hand with me. “Go pee then. Bathroom’s down the hall.”
“Sweet,” he moans, not bothering to put his pants back on as he runs to the door, cupping his junk with one hand. “Be right back, sexy.”
The door closes, and I lay back on the bed with a sigh, staring mindlessly at the ceiling. Okay, this sucks. Being alone with my mind is the worst.
Several minutes go by before I start to get ticked off. Another five, and I begin to worry. Did he get lost? Did he fall in?
I shake my head at the last thought, standing from the bed and shuffling out the room, down the hall to the bathroom to check on him.
I knock a few times on the men’s door, and when no answer comes, I shove inside, frowning when I note all but one of the stalls is open.
“Caleb?” No answer.
“Caleb?” Still nothing.
I’m about to leave when I notice something red smeared on the door of the closed stall. With my heart in my throat, I step into the bathroom. As I get closer to that stall, it becomes increasingly clear that the substance is blood, and it’s fresh.
Throwing all sense of preservation out the window, I push hard on the door of the stall, causing it to crash into the inside wall. And what I see inside makes all the blood run from my face.
It’s Caleb, slumped and lifeless on the toilet. And that's not all—not the worst of it by far. There’s a giant bloody X carved into his chest, his tongue hanging out unnaturally and surrounded by lips horribly swollen and purple.
On his lap rests a crimson notecard. Normally, that small thing wouldn’t be so frightening, but the two words scrawled there are enough to shoot terror to the core of my being.
It’s a simple phrase, and yet it's able to showcase all the malicious intent they hold. The promise.
Three days.